Out Of Sight
We're so reliant on our sight that we subconsciously think the world is the way it looks to us. The universe has a smell,has a texture and has a sound… but it is the way it looks. When truth is, sight is just one of the senses. A planet is no more round than it is, say… loud. Or solid. Sight is just one of the ways to experience something that doesn't really have a defined state of being. Funny, right? Sorry if this doesn't make sense. When you get something that essential stripped away from you, your mind wanders. I had eye surgery a couple of weeks ago, and I had to wear bandages in both eyes for forty eight hours straight, under penalty of losing my sight completely. Because of that, my memory of those days is not visual. Isn't that funny? I have a two day period of memory inside my brain that is just auditory, tactile… noises, smells and texture. Let me tell you what happened. Cindy thought we should take a trip, to help get my mind out of it. Somewhere in the country side, just me, her and Jane, our kid. I said I was fine, but truth is, I was going insane a little bit, and a change of scenery, even if I wouldn't notice it, would help. So we rented a house in Bear Mountain and took the SUV there. Cindy drove, obviously, while I played count the red cars on the highway with Jane. She won by a huge margin. The house was really nice. Or so Cindy told me. Cheap price, since we got if off ski season. It was big and wooden and had a balcony with a Jacuzzi, according to Cindy. Jane loved it. Me? I thought it smelled like an old boat a bit, but in a nice way. Like the smell of late night shore, even if we were in the mountains. It was a little chilly inside, and the floor creaked when I walked. That's my memory of the house. Before night had arrived, Cindy got the call – some emergency from her hospital, as usual. She worried about leaving Jane alone with me, given my limited abilities, but I assured her that we'd be fine. Jane also assured her she'd take care of me. So Cindy went, promising to return at the most the next morning. Jane and I had a good time playing a Trivia board game, in which I trusted her not to cheat. She did cheat. Then we ate some dinner – cold sandwiches, since I wasn't going to risk anything in the stove. When it got late enough, I asked Jane to guide me to my room, and she asked me to sleep with me, since her mom was gone for the day. "Of course you can, sweetie," I said, as she guided me to bed. "Why don't you take the bed and I'll sleep on a mattress on the floor? If we sleep on the same bed, there's a good chance I'll kick you around all night, given my poor sight skills at me moment." So Jane and I dragged a mattress from the guest room and laid it down by the queen sized bed. And we went to sleep. "Dad…" I heard the voice from a distance, like it was the echo of a dream. "Dad… dad, please wake up." I opened my eyes. It didn't make a difference. I could sometimes spot shapes through the bandages, but there had to be some light in the room. And it was pitch dark in the room. "What is it, honey?" I asked. "Did you have a bad dream?" "No…" Jane's voice sounded faint and shy, like she was scared. "Then what is it?" I asked the darkness. "There's a woman standing by the door, Dad." I frowned. "What?" "She's standing right there, Dad. Looking at us." I sat up, blinking furiously. It was too dark to see anything past the bandages. "Jane, is this a joke?" "No, Dad," Jane continued, in the same scared tone. "She's right there – Dad, I don't like her face." "Who's there?" I asked, pointing my face to where I remembered the door to be. No answer came. "Jane… if this is a joke, you better tell me right –" "She's moving now, Dad. She's stepping closer. Daddy, I really don't like her face." I squinted. I did my best to try and see anything beyond the fuzzy darkness of the bandages. I opened my ears too. I thought I could hear breathing, but I couldn't tell if it was just Jane's or somebody else's. "Who's there!?" I asked again, hardening my voice. "Jane, give me your hand." I fumbled over the queen size bed until I found Jane's hand. "Don't let go, Jane." I turned back to where the door was. "I have a gun under my pillow," I lied. Nothing. Jane's hand was holding on so tight to mine I felt it might break. "Get out of my house!" I tried again. "Daddy…" "It's ok, Jane. Just stay close to me and don't let go of my hand." "Daddy, I’m not holding your hand." A cold shiver went through my spine. I was definitely hearing breathing by my side, over on top of the bed. I let go at once and rose to my feet. "Jane, where are you?" I heard Jane's sniffs from the corner of the room, far away. "Her face is really scary, dad. It's all… wrong." I turned from one side to the other. Already I had lost track of where the door was, where the bed was. Everything. "Get out of my house!" I screamed, tumbling through the dark, waving my arms. "What do you want?" My knees hit the bed, and I jumped over it with all the strength I had, hoping to tackle something. I fell straight on the mattress, grabbing nothing but air. "Jane?" I asked again. "Where are you, Jane?" From the corner, Jane replied in her faint voice, "She's not on the bed anymore, Dad…" "Ok," I said, turning her way. "Ok. Just don't move, Jane." "She's… she's on the ceiling now. Looking down at you." I looked up. Nothing. A very soft purr, like an animal asleep, reached me from above. "Her hair is so long, daddy…" A thought occurred to me. "Jane, I want you to turn on the light. Can you do that? Turn on the light switch on the wall." I heard Jane's steps crossing the room, somewhere to my right. The growling over me was growing louder. Then click, and the light came through the bandages in a hue of pale red. I blinked and squinted, trying to make out anything. I could see the silhouette of the lamp over the bed, but no face. No sign of anything moving or alive. "Jane," I called. No one answered. I turned and scanned the room. My view frame was a big eternal white with indistinct shapes of different shades of gray – a lamp, the nightstand, the TV. No faces. Nothing human shaped. "Jane… Jane!" Nothing. Then I felt something touch my shoulder. I turned back. I couldn't even tell which side of the room I was looking at now. A figure centered itself in my field of vision. From my point of view, nothing more than a vaguely circular shape. A face, it looked like. If it was Jane's, she'd have to be standing on top of the bed, because we were exactly eye to eye. I felt a hand on my other shoulder now. "Jane?" I called again, feeling my voice weaken. Nothing. The figure grew closer. I could make the hint of a nose, not much else. Not enough to tell if it was Jane. I heard the breathing, in and out and in and out, and felt it against my face in warm gushes. The figure grew closer still. I backed away. It was taking over my view frame completely now – a round face with deep eyes that looked like holes with nothing in them. The distortion of the bandage didn't let me distinguish between tricks of light and real. Then I felt the cheeks brushing my cheeks, and the figure was breathing into my ear. And it said, "I'm just playing with you, daddy," and it was Jane's voice. Jane started laughing and I let out a deep breath somewhere between relief and anger. "Damn it, Jane, this isn't funny!" "Sorry, daddy. I'm really sorry!" she chuckled back. I gave her a little lecture on the importance of not lying to your parents and we went to bed again. The next morning Cindy returned, and I was due to take off my bandages at night. During breakfast, I told Cindy about Jane's little prank, and Cindy sided with me, telling Jane she was lucky she wasn't being grounded. "What prank, daddy?" Jane asked. "You know what I'm talking about, young lady," I said. And I told her about it, and she said she didn't do anything. She said she didn't remember even waking me up. Cindy dismissed this as Jane trying to avoid punishment, but there was something in my daughter's voice that rang weird. She didn't sound like she was defending herself – her voice actually sounded confused. That's the problem with this forty eight hour period of my life. All I have are non-visual memories, and we as humans are way too visual. When you take that away, all we're left with is guesswork. That's the problem. Because when I took the bandages off, that night, I went into my room. And, with the pretext of playing around with Jane, I put her on top of the bed and stood on the floor right in front of her. She was smiling, asking me what game we were going to play. I was thinking that her eyes were not even close to matching mine at her height on top of the bed. Her forehead barely reached my chin.